


Myopic Haze

by LonghornLetters



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Glasses, Glasses are a turn-on, M/M, OT3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-12
Updated: 2015-02-12
Packaged: 2018-03-12 00:05:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3337301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LonghornLetters/pseuds/LonghornLetters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John Watson's been under a lot of strain recently.  Sherlock's got a solution.  Greg approves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Myopic Haze

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kestrel337](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kestrel337/gifts).



> This started as a goofy, I've-got-writer's-block one-shot, but sudden inspiration made me re-start it as a Valentine's gift for the incomparable Kestrel337.

Sherlock noticed first.  Of course he did.  He noticed John craning his neck forward the longer he sat looking at a book or a screen.  He noticed the way John would pick papers up to read and then tuck his chin all the way in and then look up at the offending document in order to make it out clearly.  Sherlock kept his mouth shut because if there was one thing guaranteed to send John into a strop it was being told how to take care of himself.  Apparently ignoring his own transport’s needs made Sherlock ill qualified to pay attention to John’s.

“God almighty, I’ve got a headache,” John complained one night, collapsing into his chair after work.  “Work was so _tedious_.  I think I spent most of my day on paperwork and the part where I did actually, you know, see patients and do real doctor things, I could barely focus.”

Sherlock glanced up from his book, absorbing and deducing John’s shift at the surgery before announcing with no preamble whatsoever, “You should get your eyes checked.”

“I can _see_ , ta very much,” John shot back.  “It was just a long day, is all.”

“And I’m not saying you can’t, or that it wasn’t,” Sherlock responded, closing his book and trying to use his tone to remind John that he was a patient man who only had his best interests at heart.  “I was merely _suggesting_ that maintaining your ocular health is in both your interest and mine.”

“I get that maintaining my health is in my best interest.  I am a doctor after all.”  John said as he stood to begin his nightly hunt for dinner, “But I’m not sure why my being able to see helps you.  You do most of the work involving eyes on cases anyway.”  John grimaced as he came across a jar of the very things in the cupboard next to the plates.  “Sometimes a little too much.”

“Just trying to help,” Sherlock sniped primly, reopening his book.  He glanced up at the sound of metal clattering on metal to see John setting a pan on the cooktop.  “If you’re making eggy bread, I wouldn’t say no.”

He smiled to himself when John rolled his eyes and muttered, “Of course you wouldn’t, berk.”  But he did notice John pulled out enough bread for two.

 

~~*~~

 

The power of suggestion was a marvellous thing.  Once Sherlock brought it up, he could see John taking stock of every time he craned his neck forward while he typed on his blog of every time he readjusted a book or paper in front of his face to try to bring it into focus of every time he developed a headache from focussing on something too long.  He also noticed when John finally surrendered and made an appointment with an optometrist.

“I’m going out,” John shouted through the bathroom door while Sherlock was in the shower.  “Doctor visit.”

“Eye doctor, I hope,” Sherlock shouted back.

“Yes,” John called, rolling his eyes.  “Shouldn’t be too late.”  He threw on his coat, jammed his keys and wallet in his pockets, and clattered down the stairs and out into the street.

Sherlock finished his shower and wandered back into the bedroom, still scrubbing a towel through his wet hair.

“What the bloody hell was all that shouting about?”  Lestrade’s groggy voice demanded from where the DI was still nested in a tangle of blankets.  Sherlock flung down his towel and jumped back into the bed, laughing when Lestrade squawked in indignation as he bounced against the mattress next to him.

“John’s on his way to the optometrist.”  Sherlock answered as he burrowed under the duvet and reemerged in the circle of Lestrade’s arms.  Lestrade smiled and pulled him closer.  He swaddled them in the duvet, creating a warm cocoon for them to share.

“I heard that, sunshine.  I’m fairly certain the whole street heard it.  Why’s he going?”  Lestrade hummed, contentedly pecking kisses down Sherlock’s jaw until he could plant a proper snog right on Sherlock’s lips.

“He’s been having trouble with his eyesight.  He’s been tiring easier when he’s reading, he’ll lose focus if he has to read for a long time, he’ll come home with headaches on days when he spends most of his time reading or writing at the clinic.  Need I continue?” Sherlock smiled beatifically up at Lestrade as he let his deductions peter out.

“No, no, I get it.  I’ve noticed it too, if I’m honest.”  Lestrade glanced down at Sherlock, “Was that why he was so tetchy when I got home a couple weeks ago from that night shift?”

Sherlock shrugged, “Maybe.”

“It must’ve been.  He kept banging on about being just fine and not being too old to read the bloody papers.”  Lestrade shook his head.  “What a clot.  He has to know we wouldn’t care about something as simple as that.”

“Understanding something intellectually is completely different than understanding something emotionally,” Sherlock murmured sagely.  

Sherlock and Greg eventually rolled themselves out of bed, but only in the most academic sense.  They ended up ensconced on the couch still in their pyjamas on their respective laptops clicking through websites and emails for work until Greg eventually called it quits and got up to make cheese on toast and tea to appease his growling stomach and Sherlock put Jeremy Kyle on to shout abusive deductions at the guests.

“How can you tell she’s having an affair with more than one of her boyfriend’s friends?”  Greg enquired from where he stood in the kitchen making sure his food didn’t go up in smoke.

“Lestrade,” Sherlock said with the tone of the eternally patient, “I know we’ve discussed turn ups on jeans before.”

“Oh, yes, I forgot how much the whims of fashion can indicate about a person’s private life.  Explain this to me, though--”  At that moment, the slam of the street door cut Greg off mid-sentence.  Sherlock muted the television, and they both turned to see why an eye appointment had kept John out of the flat for the entire day.  John’s footsteps slowed as he neared the top of the stairs, causing Greg hastily plate his food and come into the lounge to investigate.  

John was met with silent stares when he stepped through the sitting room door.  “Um, yeah, hello,” he said shyly, pulling off his jacket and hanging it up before turning back to face the two men who shared his life.  “So, I went to--”

“Yeah, we can see that,” Greg cut in.  He stepped into John’s space and wound his arms around John’s waist.  “So what’d the doctor say?”  He asked, planting a soft kiss at John’s hairline, just above the sleek black and silver metal that rested across his temple.

“My-myopia with a mild astigmatism,” John stuttered as his eyes drifted closed.

“Well, at your age,” a second pair of arms snaked around John’s torso.  “And with the amount of reading you have to do for work,” a kiss on the other side of his head, a mirror to the first.  “It’s hardly surprising.”  A brief, considered pause.  “Not at all disappointing though.”

“Mmm, no, definitely not,” Greg agreed.  “Makes you look distinguished.”  One set of fingers came tugging gently at the buttons of his shirt.

“Distinguished?”  A second set of fingers began fiddling with John’s belt.  “Devastating more like.”

“Ooh, yes, definitely devastating.”   
Between Greg pulling and Sherlock pushing, the three of them began making their way through the kitchen and down the hall, and John wondered why he’d ever put off on going to the eye doctor to begin with.

**Author's Note:**

> So the idea for John needing glasses as well as the way his new frames look came from the beautiful vision the Doctor Williams character cut in The Voorman Problem. The title for this one came from a line in Lord of the Flies describing how Piggy sees the world around him after Jack steals his specs.


End file.
